


Hey Mrs. Business, How Do You Do~

by Frog_that_writes



Series: if the universe is infinite, then it's definite, that there's an au where paul is the latte hottay [2]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Autistic Paul Matthews, Character Death, Child Neglect, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Trans Paul Matthews, Transphobia, from the shitty fam, i gave paul a really sad backstory for some reason, idk man, its MY au and i get to choose the projection!, just pauls's mom, not any main characters, pre slash, this is so ooc at this point, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frog_that_writes/pseuds/Frog_that_writes
Summary: Paul Matthews hates his job, a third of his coworkers, and a strong 99% of the customers he has to deal with. The other one percent though... well, he guesses she's alright.-Or, the backstory for this Universe except it's from Paul's point of view this time. This will make far more sense if you read the first part of this series first.
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: if the universe is infinite, then it's definite, that there's an au where paul is the latte hottay [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083836
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Hey Mrs. Business, How Do You Do~

**Author's Note:**

> TW  
> implied reference child abuse and alcohol abuse because paul's dad is a shithead.  
> Character death for non major characters including: jane + paul's parents  
> Sometimes in the first part of this Paul is referred to with words like "daughter" or "girl" because that's how his family viewed him, but he always has he/him pronouns

The nine months leading up to the birth of Paul Matthews had been a relatively happy time for his family. His mom had been excited to have a baby girl, his brother had been excited for a kid sister, and his dad had just been happy to see his family growing. They had painted his room a pastel pink and picked out toys and decorations. They told all their relatives how excited they were. Paul had heard stories from his grandma about how his mom had smiled so wide it must’ve hurt as she told the family she was having a baby girl. She already had his name picked out as soon as the ultrasound confirmed it. 

Then Lisa Matthews didn’t make it through labor. And Paul had. 

His brother had tried not to blame him, he knew. He would tell him stories about their mom, managing to get through them without getting too choked up most of the time. He had even told Paul that it was hard to blame a little girl ten years younger than him for something he  _ knew  _ wasn’t his fault, but Paul still saw the resentment there, sometimes. When milestones like his first day of high school and getting his driver’s license came and went without his mom there. He tried to bury it though, which Paul had always appreciated. It helped him forget the fact that he had felt so  _ guilty _ since the day he found out exactly how his mom died.

Richard Matthew, on the other hand, had no qualms telling his daughter how much he resented his birth. Frequently. 

It was only made worse by the fact that Paul could never just do what his dad wanted. His insistence that he wasn’t a girl, his refusal to make eye contact or sit still or go outside and play with the other kids meant his dad had plenty of ammunition to throw back at him when he was drunk and particularly angry. 

Sometimes Paul wondered if it was just the alcohol that made him that way. If it turned all the grief inward and forced him to hate his son. Sometimes he liked to entertain the thought that it never had anything to do with him to start with. Maybe the only reason Dillon escaped was the fact that his age meant he left Hatchetfield before long, off to college where he could pretend what was left of his family was doing just fine. That his dad and little sister were having a grand ol’ time on the island. He still sent Paul letters from time to time, addressed to a name he no longer went by. Paul never answered.

Sometimes he resented not getting the hell out like his brother did. He hated the fact that he let his guilt talk him into staying to support his dad who had never once even called him by his real name. The man was so lost to his addiction that he couldn’t work, though, and Paul couldn’t just let him starve. So what if he was an asshole? His mom must have loved him, when she was still around. He figured she would have wanted him to help him, even if it meant he stayed in Hatchetfield and worked dead end jobs for the rest of his life, carefully splitting his paychecks between him and his father. 

The alcohol caught up to him eventually, though. He died when Paul was 23, and some part of him couldn’t even feel guilty for the relief that flooded him. 

Dillon came home for the funeral. They didn’t exchange a single sentence the whole time. 

Instead of supporting Richard’s habit, half of Paul’s paycheck started going to saving up for top surgery, a vague dream he had been harboring since he learned it was an option. He was going to hold out for a little longer with his shitty job and his shitty life. He sold his childhood home and pretty much everything that belonged to his dad that he could justify selling, which he had to admit helped. Even if the funeral costs had put a dent in that. Curse America’s insistence of monetizing everything, including death. 

It was worth it, he would repeat to himself as he got ready in his cramped apartment and made the commute to _Beanies_ on foot. He just had to save up a little bit more, take a couple more classes at Hatchetfield Community College, put up with this awful job for just a little bit longer… it was worth it.

But  _ god  _ did his job  _ suck.  _

The worst part was that he still loved Hatchetfield. Sometimes he would consider using up his savings to move somewhere else and start over. Somewhere where the assholes he had to serve wouldn’t remember him from when he was a little kid with bows in his hair having meltdowns when everything got too much. But he still loved his town. How the decaying sidewalks were so familiar to him, and how he still saw kids from Sycamore and Hatchetfield High flipping each other off once they recognized the colors of each other’s lettermans. He loved the way his old English teacher would recognize him at the grocery store and would chide him for not having enough fresh produce in his cart because  _ “you’ve always been too thin dear, a young man like you needs to eat healthy.”  _

You can’t get that kind of nostalgia anywhere but the town you grew up in, he figured. And if that meant putting up with getting called darling but guys he remembered overhearing in the halls as they bragged about getting laid, it was worth it. He swore it was. 

The morning she came in was just more of the same, up until that point. Slogging through coffee orders that had more adjectives than was strictly necessary. He would never do something so outright gross as to spit in someone’s drink like his coworker Ted would (he was always slightly irrationally scared that he would end up giving someone some deadly disease he didn’t know he was carrying, with his luck) but he had to confess that sometimes he would put in less sugar than was requested, or give the slightly stale products to the customers that were being particularly unbearable. Ted always scoffed when he saw him doing it, and would tell him after the customers left that there was no point in spite that the spite-ed person didn’t even realize happened, but Paul disagreed. His petty revenge was solely for his own sake. Not that he would go into that with Ted. He would just roll his eyes and, if Bill or Charlotte was there, tune out the lecture the other man got immediately afterwards. 

At least, that was his usual reaction to when people made overly complicated orders. And he certainly hadn’t been in a particularly good mood that day or anything, seeing as he somehow found himself having to cover his entire shift by himself, since everyone was unavailable. Bill’s daughter had some sort of doctor’s appointment, Charlotte was sick with the flu and Ted was well… Ted. He probably called in just to make Paul suffer, and Mr. Davidson had assumed that Ted was being genuine when he insisted there was definitely no way he could make it in that day. Prick. 

So no, it wasn’t some good mood that had him thinking twice about “accidentally” fucking up the order of the woman who requested an extra shot of espresso. Honestly, it was just the fact that she seemed so different from the assholes he usually dealt with.

She shooed off one of his usual problem customers without even letting him get a word in edgewise. Then she went and immediately folded when he told her he wasn’t sure he could make her order, instead of throwing a fit and asking for a manager. Plus, if he was really being honest, she looked like she could use the caffeine. The bags under her eyes were dark purple, and the whites of her eyes had turned nearly completely red. That didn’t stop him from thinking she was gorgeous, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder about the identity of his mystery savoir who tipped  _ really well  _ and l ooked like she’s gone a fortnight without sleep.

Then she introduced herself as Emma, and he suddenly knew exactly who she was. He hadn’t recognized her from looks, because they’d technically never met, but word travels fast in Hatchetfield. When Jane Perkins, outstanding member of the community and owner of the Perkin’s family business died, everyone heard about it. Then the younger Perkins sibling showed up out of the blue after having not been heard from for over a decade, and suddenly the rumour mill is flying wild. 

He tried not to let it show on his face until after she had already walked out of  _ Beanies,  _ but he knew then why she looked so tired. Losing your sister and then having to immediately step up as a CEO like that… well, he imagined it was a stressful situation. 

Some of the more wild theories people had been throwing around included the idea that Emma had somehow staged the car wreck that killed her sister to steal the company from her. Paul had been pretty skeptical of that to begin with, but even his brief conversation with Emma had proved that it wasn’t true. He knew it might be irrational, but he knew she was a good person. Not many people were that kind to the awkward barista, after all. 

He privately hoped she came in again, sometime, even if he knew it meant subjecting her to their shit coffee. It would be nice to have one nice customer he could look forward to. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy new years i wrote this one in even less time than the first which means its probably even worse <3 my brain is literally going brrrrrr thinking about this au  
> please comment if u liked this the seratonin fuels me


End file.
